


stand and deliver

by advantagetexas



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, because im the queen of trash mountain and this is my kingdom, redemption arcs are fun, theres also some implied mercy/mccree/hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advantagetexas/pseuds/advantagetexas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Doctor Ziegler struggles to bring Amélie Lacroix back from the Widowmaker, Tracer is left to deal with feelings she'd long since buried that have clawed their way to the surface again. But god, when she looks at her, it's almost like nothing has changed, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	stand and deliver

**Author's Note:**

> title and inspiration from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ug3TnTX7d8&t=0s)

It was quite disturbing, really. The way her skin was that awful shade of purple, like someone who’d been kept without air for just a touch too long. It had been worse when McCree brought her in, though, what with all the kicking and screaming and trying to squirm her way out of the cuffs and out of his grip. Now, though, she seemed almost peaceful, tranquilized and in one of the hospital beds Doctor Ziegler had set up in her makeshift lab. Still, it was hard to ignore the bright shiny cuffs around both of her wrists.

“She’ll be right as rain soon, right, Doc?” Tracer asked, looking away from unconscious woman for the first time in a solid 10 minutes.

“Hopefully, darling. I’m not quite sure what they’ve done to her. Her heart rate is slowed tremendously, I’m not even sure how she is still alive,” Angela muttered, more to herself than anything, staring transfixed at a screen of various vitals and information. Tracer couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but at least the good doctor had it all under control. “And there’s definitely been some sort of mental reconditioning. That will be harder to fix than her physical ailments, for sure.”

“I’m sure we can at least try! After all, we’re the good guys, right? It’s our job to help people that need us!” Tracer enthused, and Angela turned to her, hiding an amused smile with her hand before pulling her into a tight hug. “Maybe Winston can help build something that’ll fix her.”

“I’m afraid that this is not as simple as your accelerator, my dear. Human cells are…” Angela trailed off, pulling away and resuming her station in front of the vitals chart. She had a strange look on her face when she finally continued, “Human cells are delicate. So very delicate…” She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It’s getting late, Lena. You should get some rest.”

“I will, Doc, promise. I just…I just want to spend a little more time here, is all,” Tracer replies, pulling up a chair next to the bedside. She brushed her hand against the top of one of Widowmaker’s hands. God, her skin was so cold. She felt almost like a corpse come to life. Across the room Doctor Ziegler just hummed as she worked, looking at this piece of data, and that spreadsheet.

\\\\\///\\\\\///

Tracer woke up the next morning in her own bed, still in her clothes from yesterday. Must have fallen asleep in the lab. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she changed into a clean shirt and jacket, careful not to dislodge her accelerator too much. Her goggles were left on her bedside table, and she only just remembered to grab them before she went downstairs to the medical lab.

The curtain around Amélie’s bed was drawn, with two silhouettes highlighted against the dull white, standing on the inside.

“It is…progress, yes, but how much I cannot be sure,” Doctor Ziegler’s voice carried through the thin curtain.

“Looks better than yesterday. Didn’t quite like the feeling of hauling in an ice cube,” McCree’s voice replied with a scoff. “She’s got a different haircut now too.”

“Yes. It is regrettable that she could not make the choice herself, but it was just altogether too much to work around,” she answers, as Tracer tries to creep closer, trying to hear what’s going on better. “Her heart rate has greatly increased, however. It will probably be within acceptable ranges inside the hour. I am still working on a way to keep it like that without the machinery, however. It is…delicate process, yes?”

“Sounds like it, doc. You told Tracer yet? I know her and Amélie were close back in the day, figure she might wanna know. ‘Specially considering I had to carry her out of here for you last night.”

“Ach je, yes, I know. You know, Lena always was Gérard’s favorite. Amélie’s too. She was inconsolable when Amélie was first taken. Utterly heartbroken. I feared she was actually going to undergo some sort of grief related illness.” Doctor Ziegler laughed, but she didn’t quite sound happy. “I am afraid that if I cannot restore the Amélie we used to know, that we will lose them both.”

“Now don’t talk like that, Angie. You’ve made miracles happen before, I’m sure you can do it again.”

“Ah, you are too sweet to me, Jesse,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder softly. Tracer takes another step toward the curtain, careful not to make any noise.

“I’m nothing if not a gentlemen, doctor,” McCree practically purred, taking a step closer to her. Tracer moved another step forward, accidentally bumping into a nearby cart of instruments.

“What the-“McCree started, before Tracer activated her accelerator, sending her back a few seconds. She backed away slowly toward the door, the last thing she heard before being too far away was Doctor Ziegler saying “…we will lose them both.”

\\\//\\\//

“Tracer…Tracer…Lena!”

“Hm?” Tracer asked, finally being able to refocus on what was in front of her. She’d zoned out for a minute or two there. A strange man she’d never seen before was standing in front of her, arms crossed in front of him. He was in some weird traditional getup with a bow and arrow slung across his back. Was she dreaming or something? “Can I ‘elp you?”

“Doctor Ziegler has requested your assistance with something,” he deadpanned, showing little emotion besides slight disgust.

“Ah, cheers, Mr…” Tracer enthused, before trailing off.

“Shimada,” he answered curtly. Suddenly the name clicked in her mind.

“So you’re Genji’s brother! Oh man, the stories he’s told about you! Are you working for Overwatch now?”

“For the time being, yes. I owe many things to my brother, but I owe a large debt of gratitude to Overwatch as well.”

“I mean, you know this is all illegal, right? I don’t want you to get the impression that you’re working for the old Overwatch is all.” Hanzo actually laughs at this, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“Obviously my brother has not told you the whole story if you think I would be afraid of a little lawbreaking, Ms. Oxton. You really should get to Doctor Ziegler, though, she said it was quite urgent.”

“Oh, right!” Tracer said, jumping up from her seat. “Cheers, love!”

The lab wasn’t far from here, just a short run down this hallway and that. She reversed time a couple, well, times, to make sure that she wasn’t keeping the good doctor too long. When she finally made it to the lab, the curtain was open for the first time.

Amélie was still cuffed to the bed, but she looked much different now. Her skin, which was previously purple and numb, almost frostbitten, looked human again. Her face was a pale pink, like a permanent blush. Her hair was cut short and jagged around her chin, pushed back out of her eyes. For a rush job, Angela hadn’t done such a bad job with it.

“She is a work in progress,” Doctor Ziegler said, seeing Tracer come in and go straight to the bedside. She picked up one of the unconscious woman’s hands, holding it in hers. It was warm and actually kinda sweaty. “Heart rate just slightly too fast now.”

“She looks beautiful doc. God, she looks wonderful,” Tracer breathed, brushing a stray piece of hair out of Amélie’s face. “Just like the old days.”

“Trac-Lena. I must ask you something,” Angela says, separating from her work and coming to stand beside the bed, putting a hand on Tracer’s arm comfortingly. “It has been a long time since you have seen Ms. Lacroix, yes?”

“Almost 7 years, doc.”

“Do you…ach, nevermind. Too personal.”

“No, go ahead,” Tracer reassured, not taking her eyes off the sleeping woman.

“Do you still love her?” Lena couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Never was much one for subtlety, was she? But then again, she wasn’t wrong. A long time ago, it felt like lifetimes now, she had been in love with Mrs. Amélie Lacroix. It was childish, and stupid, sure, but it felt real. It had been her guilty secret to keep all these years, or at least she assumed it had been. Then again, maybe she had been more transparent than she’d thought. It wasn’t hard to see why she would love her, really. She was smart, beautiful, told the best jokes, had the warmest smile. An angel on earth. The question was, even after all they’d been through, after all the things Amélie, _her Amélie_ , had done, did she still love her?

“I ask because…because I may not be able to bring _her_ back. The mental conditioning they have her under is tough to break, even with nanotechnology to repair her neurological patterns. Even if I do manage to break it…” Angela trails off again, looking down at her patient and steeling herself before continuing. “She may not remember us. She may not remember you. It is all up to chance. I just want you to be prepared for that possibility.”

“That’s okay, doc. As long as she’s back and she’s happy then I don’t care,” Tracer mumbles, crouching down beside the hospital bed and putting Amélie’s hand on her cheek, the cuffs clinking together and making her heart hurt with the sound.

“I am sorry, liebling. I wish I could do more.”

“Are you kidding? You brought her back to me. You brought her back. I’m not sure I ever thought that was possible, and yet here she is. _Alive_. I’m in your debt, Angela, really.”

\\\//\\\//

“Are you sure you wish to be here, Lena?” Doctor Ziegler asks, both of them standing by Amélie’s bedside.

“Yes, definitely. Are…are the cuffs still necessary?” Tracer asked, pointing to the shiny silver things still around the unconscious woman’s wrists.

“We…McCree and I both agree that it is for the best. Until we are sure that she is completely fine. I won’t have another repeat of G-“she winced, stopping midsentence. “It is not safe.”

Amélie started to stir, her fingers splaying out and contracting. Lena grabbed one of her hands, crouching down and holding it between both of hers. She could feel her heart start to beat louder and louder.

And then her eyes opened, sparkling in the bright lights, with all the brilliance of a thousand suns.

“Bonjour, mon chéri,” she said with a light smile, before her face quickly changed into one of concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, love, yes I’m alright. I’m wonderful! How are you feeling?” Tracer answered, a smile plastered across her face. She was back, really back. Her Amélie.

“You’re crying, Lena,” she said, taking her hand from Tracer’s and wiping her cheek with it, wicking the tears away. “Why are my…oh,” she said, pulling at the cuffs, before realizing exactly why they were there. “I don’t want to hurt you. Any of you.”

“I know, love, I know. That’s why things have to be like this.”

“No, it is not safe for you all to be around me. Even months from now, how can you be sure I won’t attack you? I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore, Lena,” she whispers, a single tear falling from her eye.

“I will make sure that that does not happen, Amélie,” Doctor Ziegler reassured her. “Your neural patterns are entirely organic again, these are only a precaution for now. I can say with almost 100% certainty that you are yourself again.” She smiled down at her, then ruffled Tracer’s hair as she wipes her eyes on her coat collar. “Welcome back to us, Ms. Lacroix.”

\\\//\\\//

“C’mon, Amélie, there’s tons of people waiting to meet you! Now’s not the time to act like a coffin dodger!” Tracer enthuses, skipping circles around her as the two of them walk through the halls. Amélie moves a piece of hair from her face, putting it behind her ear.

“I am not sure I’ll get a warm welcome, chéri. I have done…I have done horrible things.”

“Amélie Lacroix,” Tracer says, suddenly serious. She stands directly in front of the taller woman, stopping her in her tracks. She takes one of her hands in hers and looks right into her eyes. “That wasn’t _you_. Now come on, you’re going to be late for your own party.” Tracer doesn’t give her a chance to argue as she activates her accelerator, speeding them both down the hall as time slows around them. It takes mere seconds for them to reach the mess hall, where everyone is waiting. Tracer steps in first, before moving aside to let Amélie see.

Doctor Ziegler and McCree are chatting amicably with a tall, tattooed man that she doesn’t recognize. The man says something and Angela’s face lights up with laughter. Wilhelm and Lindholm are having what seems to be a pretty heated argument with Genji and Ms. Zhou, before also dissolving into a bout of strong laughter. There’s another man there too, sitting by himself in the corner. He has a mask covering his face, and a visor covering his eyes, but something about him seems so familiar. One by one, the faces in the room turn toward her, a hush covering the place.

“Bonjour à tous,” she says with a halfhearted wave. It’s Mei that moves first, breaking into a huge smile before coming over and practically picking Amélie up in a tight hug. After that, it’s like the floodgates burst. Everyone crowds around, giving her hugs or words of encouragement. She looks over at Lena, who grins and gives her a thumbs-up. She reaches over and pulls the Brit close, giving her a peck on both cheeks before going straight for a deeper kiss. When she finally does pull away, she can almost swear she sees money changing hands in the corner of her eye, but she’s more focused on the starry-eyed look of pure happiness in Lena’s eyes before she pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Merci chéri. Pour tout cela,” she whispers.


End file.
